New Zealand to Sydney

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

We will make three stops in New Zealand, the first at the Bay of Islands which is gorgeous—the main reason for the stop.  It is also the location of the signing of the treaty which established New Zealand as a country and gave the Maori the rights of full citizens.  Our tour started with a drive through the country to the Stone Store, the oldest stone building in the country.  Pretty roads lined with sheep (a declining industry), cattle which are replacing some the sheep, kiwi vines, grape vines, a quarry and fruit trees.  All four legged animals larger than a lizard are imports which explains the flightless birds which had never needed to learn to fly and are now becoming extinct.  There are no other pests or snakes either, but we take that with a grain of salt because there certainly are flies. 

We next visit the grounds where the Treaty of Waitangi was signed on February 6, 1840 so we have just missed their independence day.  There was also a Maori meeting house, the world’s longest paka (war canoe—ceremonial only) and the former home of James Busby and his family which was quite small because his boss did not like him and cut his plans in half and also withheld half his salary.  Busby had no real authority, but nevertheless did significant work establishing a maritime flag for New Zealand which protected their shipping from capture by the Australians and calling together thirty-five tribal chiefs who signed a Declaration of Independence.

Lunch was in town at a small restaurant which was overwhelmed by the arrival of a large number passengers from the ship.  Service was slow, but the food was good.  We wandered a local craft fair and returned to the ship too full of lunch to enjoy much dinner.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

It gets harder to tell what day it is.  Each day we receive a very much abbreviated NYTimes, but while we have crossed the dateline NY has not and the days and dates no longer match.  At some point we must catch up again or perhaps the world will catch up with us. 

Auckland is a real city with city sounds and buildings and we are docked right downtown across from what I think is the old custom house or maybe the ferry building.  In any case it is picturesque.  The country has rolling hills, lots of bays and is totally beautiful.  The climate is lovely.  I can imagine living here although without NYC culture.

 Having been here before we have opted for a day in the country.   We drive to a gannet colony with hundreds of birds and see miles of rolling, prosperous countryside, have lunch at a “farm” and watch a sheep dog and shearing demonstration which we have actually seen before.  It is a lovely, relaxed day but something is in the air and irritating my throat; I go through almost a package of cough drops. 

Activities we have done before and recommend:  Kelly Tarlton’s aquarium and Antarctic display.  Further from town we found the Waitomo glow worm caves a mild thrill and Rotorua, a local geyser area is interesting.

Through each segment of the voyage, Cunard gives the “round the worlders” a cocktail party but in Auckland it is a formal dinner with the president of Cunard flying out from London and entertainment, wine and enormous amounts of food.  We are at Sky City, but the group is too large for the tower.  We are more than eight hundred and are in an enormous room with television screens so that everyone can see the program.  It is well done.  Unfortunately there is a very loud orchestra playing, and I strain my voice.  Between the afternoon irritation and the evening strain, I have a barking cough all night and trouble talking today.  I am all right as long as I keep my mouth shut, but that is a tough one.

As the day progresses it becomes evident that I have another cold.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

A quiet day at sea with “fresh” breezes which means fairly strong.  I can’t figure out if the captain is ironic when he says that.  Seas of twelve feet or so are predicted for this evening.   We decide to take some Bonine.   The easiest way to judge the waves is to go up to the swimming pool.  The water sloshes merrily when the waves are moderately high.  Today it is sloshing out of the pool and the entire deck is wet.  No one is in the pool or on the lounges. Pretty definitive in my book.

After two miserable nights of coughing where even my nearest and dearest looks like he would like to escape, I went to the medical clinic this moring (first patient) and took their meds before heading to Australian Immigration hoping they would let me in the country. We sailed through—much better than US immigration where the lines were long and slow. I manage not to cough while before the immigration people.  Good thing it was quick.  Cunard collected all of our passports so the Ozzies had reviewed them all before we even showed up. Once they verified that the face matched the picture and we handed in the cards saying we had not done anything objectionable like selling things, we were done.

  I have missed two day trips because I was not well at the time of the trip.  We decide to turn in the tickets to the Sydney opera—John thinks he may be coming down with this.  Not the end of the world.  It is Carmen, and it would have been a pleasant evening with other music fans, but the opera is familiar and the only real interest would be in how they managed to stage it in what is a spectacular but rather small opera house. 

Monday, February 21, 2011

Another quiet day at sea because I am still bothered by the cold and the kind of massive coughing attack that comes with it.  Three trips to the doctor have yielded a useless coughing medicine and two sessions with a nebulizer which seems to help.  We will know more after tonight.  Tomorrow is Sydney.

Tuesday, February 21, 2011

I cough all night; although John announces I did have some quiet hours.

We have been promised that the early morning entry into Sydney harbor would be an event, and Sydney does herself proud.  Queen Mary 2 enters at the same time—actually first, then turns around and we slide past.  The two ships salute each other loudly and are completely lit up.  Dozens of small boats come out to meet us and a stream of ferries.  A dozen helicopters circle.  We see the opera house, the terminal and the fireboats spewing water.  It is worth getting up for, but I wonder what drives the Ozzies to get out of bed, drive somewhere and get their boats up and running to watch two ships enter the harbor.  In transit guests have been off the ship for awhile, but those disembarking must wait until their luggage is cleared which takes longer than expected for some reason.  There is a Life Lesson here: don’t schedule tight connections.

John is off finding a Citibank.  I wait happily as I still do not feel 100%.  Although we arranged for all charge transactions to be paid automatically while we are gone, one account has not gone through, and he was unable to fix it on the internet.  Citibank in foreign countries does not deal with private customers, but they do have a phone, and John is able to straighten it out.  We think.

In the afternoon we walk to the opera house, and John is able to score a single ticket for tonight. We stroll together through the botanical garden and the tropical conservatory.  On leaving the conservatory, we are startled by enormous bats, the size of chickens,  gathered in a pair of trees and screeching and flying around in the daytime. We had planned to visit the art museum, but I am tired.  We return to the ship for an early supper.